"Oh, I'm usually awake this late. Shucks, I'm used to it. Sometimes I jest get ta sleep when it's time ta get up. But I do wish we'd go to bed." "Madam, your language!" "All I said was...." "I know; I know," the captain said. "Madam, come to my stateroom. You may sleep on the sofa." "Weeeel," Joanne Marie said, "I ain't a-sayin' that. I know my rights." "Let us not be difficult. I am certain, when I explain to you in a logical fashion the obvious impossibility of--of--" "You got no wife?" "No," he said. "Yeah. I thought not. That sure is swell." "Madam. Perhaps I can say it this way. I have certain perturbations, but I can assure you, whatever you attempt my aim is inflexible. For me, the Captain, to--ah--consort with a crew woman is preposterous." "Is that what you call it? Now that's a funny word. My husband calls it--" "_Madam!_" Joanne Marie was cowed into silence. They walked directly to his stateroom. Once inside, Joanne Marie said, "Now ya jest sit down, comfortable like. I got somethin' I want to tell ya." "No," the captain said. "I ain't even told ja yet." "It won't matter," the captain said. "My husband don't like me," she said. He dropped his head into his hands and sighed deeply. Then he looked up, his face set in icy resignation. VII John, the second mate, awoke early the morning of the Festival. "Helen, honey," he said. "Wake up." She murmured sleepily. "Come on, now, wake up." She rolled over to her side of the bed. "All right," he said. He reached out, fumbled for and found his cigarettes. "You know what I'm going to do to the captain?" he asked. He lit a cigarette and lying on his back blew smoke rings at the ceiling. "Yes," his wife said, "you told me." "First, I'm going to take that saber I got on Queglat and scrape open his scrofula. Then, when he's bleeding nicely, all I have to do is pour a bottle of alcohol on him. Don't you think that will be nice?" "Yes, dear." "You know, I'm kinda sorry I went to all the trouble sharpening that saber. After all, it might be more painful if the saber was dull." "Yes, dear." "But then, on the other hand...." "Dear, will you hand me a cigarette?" "Sure." He shook out a cigarette, lit it off his and handed it to her. "So what do you think?" "It doesn't matter, dear," she said. "Oh, but it does matter," John insisted. "I think it's very important." He snubbed out his cigarette. "It's all the little details that one should take into account. Can't be too careful about something like that." He rolled over on his back again. "I'm hungry," he said. "I really thought they should have served breakfast," Helen said. "Well, it wouldn't be right to leave all those dirty dishes for the second crew." "I mean just sandwiches." "Yes," he said, "they could have made up some sandwiches. I think, though, I'd settle for a cup of tea." "I could brew you some on the hot plate." "It's too much bother," John said. "Are you sure you wouldn't mind?"